Cheerleader
by AllAmericanSlurp
Summary: Stephanie has always ruled high school. That is, until Bree came along. And what does Stephanie do? For heaven's sake, she SOFTENS UP. Since when does that ever happen? One-shot. (Stephanie is not in the list of characters for "Characters" option, so it's just Bree.) Dedicated to Tie Dye Pencils.


**Hey, y'all! Here I am with a silly little one-shot that's been lurking in my over-worked-with-story-ideas brain, and finally I got tired of it buzzing around so I posted it. This shows some insight on Stephanie's true character; I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to a) read the bottom A/N (important), and b) review, please and thank you very much! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.

* * *

Stephanie Oana Gregory, queen bee of the school, ruler of the girls, captain of the cheerleading squad, flirter of the boys, star of Mission Creek. She was _the_ queen bee/ruler/captain/flirter/star. She was everything that she wanted to be.*

See, she was _kind of_ your stereotypical dumb cheerleading pretty blonde-haired girl. At least, _kind of._ But there was a side to her that she didn't reveal often, and it was the fact that she cared for her family.

She had a little brother in elementary school, and when a girl named Jackie started hitting and punching and kicking her brother, Stephan, in second grade, she stormed over to the school after high school got out, had a serious talk (very heated) and stormed out, leaving Jackie in a very scared, serious, and paralyzed state.

Stephan was your average kid save for one thing: Vanessa had given Stephan a beautiful birthstone ring when he was six (and trusted him to keep and not give away, to which Stephan had done ever since, only taking it off in the shower) with diamond-embedded curlicues and a sparkling emerald set straight in the middle. *

When Stephan received good grades in school she hugged him and told him that for one day, on a weekend, she would do whatever he wanted her to do with him. It was their bonding time. It was the time that they enjoyed the small, sweet, juicy moments they had with each other. Besides those moments, she really didn't spend that much time with her brother. They saw each other at dinner (because Stephanie was usually at a friend's house or at the Mission Creek High School gym practicing cheerleading routine moves with the squad and Stephan was at a friend's doing homework) and she always came in and talked with him at night, and they ate breakfast together, but that was about it. Eleventh and third graders do not mix well.

Then there were Stephanie's parents.

Most rich parents (Stephanie's parents were what you would call wealthy—definitely quite well off; they could afford to go out three times a week for dinner but they didn't have to ["Home-cooked meals are the best," Stephanie's mother Vanessa would insist]), and they lived in a fairly large home. Not even holding a candle to the Davenport mansion, of course, but still bigger than most around the city.

It was the assumption that most rich parents are snobs, spend most of their time a) obsessing over their work, or b) obsessing over their money and flaunting it to the poorer citizens of Mission Creek, but not the Gregory's. Mrs. Gregory loved to spend time with her children and had the job of a real estate lawyer (rather a boring job.) It seemed to pay off well, as did Mr. Gregory's job, which was vice president of the local university.

While all of this was true, so was the fact that Stephanie was spoiled.

Now, if Mr. and Mrs. Gregory had raised Stephanie by actually refusing certain things to her, Stephanie may actually have grown up a sweet girl. But as much as they did love her (proving she wasn't a bitter grouch like Conchie, who got her nickname after feeling too guilty to do something right because she was too self-conscious), they spoiled her as well. Therefore, Stephanie was a brat. A wealthy brat.

(Save for the sweet moments with her brother.) Therefore proving the fact that she was a stereotypical kid. Somewhat.

It was complicated.

But not matter how much Stephanie enjoyed being the queen bee of everything; she did love cheerleading, just like every other rich spoiled brat. Cheerleading was her passion; she would do it until she became bedridden. (Imagine eighty-year-old Stephanie doing cheers in a wheelchair…there was something she could never un-see…) Her high-pitched, annoyingly perky voice was perfect for leading cheers; she was agile and flexible enough to cheer properly, and she was good at flips, cartwheels, and back-bends, thus proving her the best cheerleader at Mission Creek High School.

Her reign had never been challenged before.

So when Bree and Adam Davenport had decided to one-up her at the tryouts, they had humiliated her deeply. It was so… Annoying.

There were so many names that Stephanie had for Bree… all bad words, all ugly names… but Stephanie never said them out loud, because then she would get in trouble.

She wasn't dumb. She knew that she was on Principal Perry's good side, and she had to maintain her reputation. She could manipulate her advantage—and keep her control over the school.

They'd never see it coming.

* * *

"Jackie stayed away," Stephan said happily, all freshened up and tucked in. "She told everybody at school to be nice to me 'cause then my big scary yellow sister will come and yell at them."

Stephanie nodded distantly. "Just remember not to make friends because they're scared of you. You want to be friends with people because they respect you and vice versa, not because they're afraid of what you'll do." She was thinking about revenge on Adam and Bree. Chase she didn't mind so much because he had Trent to deal with. The same thing went for the weird little Dooley kid. No, it was Adam and Bree that she had to worry about.

"I think they _are_ scared of me, though." Stephan persisted. "Nie-nie, are you paying attention?"

When Stephan was little, he couldn't pronounce Stephanie's full name and his mother, Vanessa Gregory, and his father, Allen Gregory*, didn't want to mix up the two (coincidentally, they had very similar-sounding names), so Stephan had always called his sister "Nie" or sometimes "Nie-nie"* when he felt especially close to her.

They had always shared a bond with each other.

Stephanie smoothed out one of Stephan's hairs that was placed wrong over the part. "Don't worry about it. Just be nice and then they'll like you again."

Maybe Adam and Bree had the kind of bond that Stephanie and Stephan had.

"You'll always be there, Nie-nie, won't you?"

Stephanie smiled slightly. "I'll always be here for you."

Adam and Bree only wanted to prove themselves at school. After all, she _did_ allow Adam to pass but not Bree. That was a little unfair, wasn't it? And Adam quit to make Bree feel better. Wouldn't she quit something she loved (besides cheerleading) for Stephan, because she loved him that much?

"G'night, Nie-nie," he mumbled, pulling up the rocket-ship/stars and moons quilt. "Love you."

"Thank you, Stephan," Stephanie said quietly, barely enough for Stephan to hear her. _Thank you for showing me your third grade wisdom._

"And good night," she added. "I'll see you in the morning." She rose up and hovered at the doorway, leaning against it. _He's so innocent. Life… will not be kind to him._

_And that's why I'm here._

* * *

Stephanie loved the roar of the crowd. Extreme nausea and nervous feelings had faded since she had turned twelve at her fiftieth cheerleading gig at the games; now, it was all normal and she loved it. It was her safe spot; her comfy spot. She absolutely loved it.

There was a rush of adrenaline, and when she performed, she loved the loud, boisterous clapping, and the synchronized movement and voices of her squad were all together. Perfect.

She absolutely loved it.

They were running out onto the field now, and her heart was pumping. But not from the butterflies, from the eye of the tiger, ready to roar and roar loud.

Beginning . . . they were starting now. Her arms moved, almost without her thinking, and the pompoms flew in the air.

The first starting stunts were deployed, and two of her teammates, Jennifer and Amanda, did a double flip into the air and landed on the hands of the setters.

Time passed quickly and slowly at the same time. Pretty soon, the climax was going to start. The pyramid, ending with Stephanie holding her arms up like a bird ready to take flight—

And then jumping, where she would fall safely into the hands of her teammates.

They'd practiced this a) first in a deep swimming pool, then b) on a huge trampoline, in a case should Stephanie fall of course several yards away from where the catchers were stationed (highly unlikely, but they needed to be safe), and then c) on a safety net, and then d) on the school grass, where it was a soft landing lest she fall, and then finally, e) on the very hard laminated wood of the Mission Creek High gym floor. Now, she was ready.

They started forming the pyramid, and then Stephanie felt herself rising at the top. It was a rush of emotions—happiness, satisfaction… but the overall love of the sport. She was at the top, rising to the top—and she could see everything.

And then she lifted her arms, held them there for the assigned _five seconds,_ leaned forward, and then plummeted.

* * *

They say that time stops at the crux of the excitement.

Stephanie agreed; it was absolutely true. It seemed as if things were going in slow-motion—she was tumbling, two somersaults that had been planned…

She could see, the lights from the stadium almost blinding her, her teammates eager arms, ready to catch her.

Would they catch her in time?

_I love you, Nie-nie._

She looked and saw Stephan in the stands, clapping broadly.

She could do it.

She would land safely, for him.

* * *

And then time is released with the "falling" action (no pun intended) and _thud!_ With a small bruise on the soles of her feet, she landed, solidly, stolidly, and happily. She had done it.

She had done it! She had landed.

She had done it for Stephan, because she loved him.

_Adam only quit because he loved Bree._

The shock from the landing impact spread its way to her selfish, spoiled mind, and it hit her.

Love drove people to do so many things, good _and_ bad, depending on whose viewpoint you saw.

As the crowd surged with laughter, and clapping, and just the beautiful "sports field game" crowd sounds, Stephanie raised her pompom-holding hands high above her head, and screamed, "For the dingoes!"*

The crowd repeated, "For the dingoes!"

* * *

Stephanie looked up out the locker room window at the star-covered night. She was putting away her things; her family was going out for dinner late that night to Parmigiani's, an Italian restaurant that served the best bacon-wrapped-shrimp and mac n' cheese.

Stephanie loved game nights; everybody knew she loved game nights.

Wouldn't Bree Davenport love games nights, too?

Exiting the locker-room, lo and behold, she spotted Bree, sulking by the entrance to the girls' restrooms.

She drew closer to Bree, and Bree snapped, "What do you want, Stephanie?"

Stephanie quickly moved back. _She has every right to be hostile._

"I… look, Bree… you wanted to be on the cheerleading squad, right?"

Bree raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "Yes…?"

"I'm sorry that I let Adam in and you out." The apology tumbled out of Stephanie's pretty pink-lipstick-covered lips. Apologies had always been hard for Stephanie to get out because it meant getting rid of her pride.

"You are?" Bree smiled, with one corner of her lip twisted up.

"Yeah," Stephanie said softly.

She thought she saw something moving behind the corner of the exterior locker room walls, and then saw something flash brightly.

Stephan's birthstone ring.

"Would you like to be on the squad?" Stephanie asked genuinely, flashing a smile.

Bree smiled wider. "I would love to."

_Thank you, Stephan._

"Good night," Stephanie whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Good night," Bree answered, hearing it.

* * *

So she wasn't completely converted to "kind girl." She definitely still had work to do, but it was progress.

Dinner had been successful, and Stephanie continued to gaze outside at the starry, twinkling light—like Stephan's ring, like her hundred-watt smile, like Bree's earrings.

She had much work to do.

But first, she had to thank Stephan for all he had helped with, even if he wasn't aware of it. (Or was he? Some little angel sent in disguise?)

She got up from the windowsill-seat and headed to his room.

* * *

**Interesting viewpoint, yes? Glad you all agree. ;-) I have to give some credit to scribbler123, whose "cheerleading sensation" ideas/imagery-diction I got from her chapter where Bree became part of the squad and forgot all about her brothers. Round of applause to her! So, I hope that you enjoyed _Cheerleader_ and that you will review it! They are much appreciated!**

**Now, I bet some of you are looking forward to me updating my other stories. Updating schedule is all mapped out; please do not beg or pressure me to update sooner than the dates I have planned. Everything is how I have planned it for a reason, and if I update one day too soon, it will throw off the balance of my well-organized schedule.**

* * *

**Footnote No. 1: Oana Gregory is the actress who portrayed Stephanie, whose last name wasn't given in the canon. So, I made one for her, combining reality with show. You like it?  
**

**Footnote No. 2: The link to the image of this ring is right after the link to this story in the "My Stories" section of my profile. You'll see it! It's titled "Stephan's Abounding/Birthstone Ring from _Cheerleader_." I think. Close enough, anyways!  
**

**Footnote No. 3: Allen means handsome; Vanessa means beautiful. We're dealing with _major_ stereotypes with the main characters of this story; how could one more hurt?!  
**

**Footnote No. 4: "Nie-Nie" is pronounced "Knee-knee" because the ending "nie" of "Stephanie" is pronounced "knee." Got it?**

**Footnote No. 5: Those of you Lab Rats fans reading this who don't follow the show's tiny details as much, the dingoes are Mission Creek High School's mascot.**

* * *

**(I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.)**


End file.
